


Man Eater

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Little Shop of Horrors (1986)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Apothecary, Dark Draco, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Inspired by Little Shop of Horrors (1986), Jealousy, M/M, Plants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-03-02 13:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18811399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “You can’t lie to me.” The plant released Draco and he stumbled, overbalanced by his own gangly limbs. “I've watched you. I've heard all your idle thoughts. All your whispered secrets. I know whatHarrymeans to you.”





	Man Eater

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the lovely mods for being so so so so unbelievably patient with me during this fest. They are the real MVPs here! ❤️ But I would like it very much if you, the reader, enjoyed this brief glimpse. If you've never seen Little Shop of Horrors for yourself, it is amazing. Brilliant music, all-star cast, and tons of dark humor. Highly recommended!
> 
> There is a bit of non-graphic violence in reference to physical abuse of a partner (canonical to the source material, if you're familiar with it). If that is something you'd rather avoid, please feel free.

“ _Circe’s Tits!_ ” Draco flinched, pressing his right thumb between his lips.

Every. Single. Time.

Lately it seemed he couldn’t get near the damned plant without something to show for it, his hands covered in an expanding collection of strategically placed bandages.

A distracting smear of dirt settled into the knee of Draco’s good trousers as he dropped his trowel. Frantically, He tried to wipe at it with his good hand, quickly giving up when it settled deeper into the fabric.

He sighed. It didn’t matter in the long run. Why worry about his appearance when the shop hadn’t seen a customer in days?

There was a jingle as the bell over the door rang. “I told you you ought to wear gloves.”

Cursing his luck, Draco turned to face Potter. He gave his wound another hard suck, angling his soiled leg out of view.

“Wrong. _Longbottom_ said I ought to wear gloves. _You’ve_ been relaying the information back to me like a hyperactive barn owl.” Draco climbed to his feet. “And as I’ve told you _both_ ,” he continued, “I don’t _need_ gloves--”

“--because you’re immune.” Potter rolled his eyes. He removed his delivery satchel from around his shoulders. Placed his green coat over the back of a chair before punching his card.

“That hasn’t actually been proven, you know,” Potter continued. “That you’re immune. You’ve only been stung more times than you can count.” He gestured at the plant. “And when it gets bigger, the venom could have a nastier effect.”

Draco tilted his head, innocently. “ _It_?”

The corners of Potter’s mouth grew pinched, and Draco did his best not to smirk.

“As for his size,” Draco shook his head. “Look at him. Potter II’s already far larger than he has any right to be.”

“I don’t--,” Potter cleared his throat. His cheeks were pinked as he looked Draco in the eye. “I really think you ought to change the name.”

Potter’s arm brushed Draco’s as together, they bent at the waist and peered down at the pot. Newly re-soiled, the Venomous Tentacula was five times as large as it had been a week ago when Draco’d first brought it into _Snapes & Snapdragons_, Severus’ expression weary as Draco stood before his frame and asked where he might find an appropriate pot.

Draco had been convinced his attempts to nurse the tentacula back to health wouldn’t take -- it’d been nearly close to death when he’d found it, drawn in by the jagged zigzag marking hidden under a wild mess of vines. Whatever his doubts, the plant proved to be a fighter, stubborn once it made up its mind to live.

In the short time that followed, Draco spent many an hour observing it, admiring its handsome greenery and its rapid progress, stunned by the ferocious speed of its improvement under his attention. There were even times when Draco spoke to the plant and he swore the tentacula had spoken back -- almost as if it found Draco as remarkable as he did it.

In Draco’s mind it was ‘The Plant Who Lived.‘

Which of course, bore no likeness to _the boy_ who lived. Beyond possible name recognition, of course.

Now much too big for his companionable spot next to the till, Draco decided to move Potter II to a much roomier corner of the Apothecary, where it would receive plenty of love and admiration from the passersby, placed before the giant display window.

And unlike the _real_ Harry Potter, Draco had thought to himself, Harry II would not have to go looking for affection in all the wrong places.

The vines gave a series of pathetic little tremors. Draco crouched, brushing his fingers along its leaves, maneuvering the plant’s large head with careful fingers.

“He’s been doing this lately,” Draco said with concern. “Little fainting spells. Now that he’s grown so big I’m not sure I’m feeding him enough.”

Potter nodded. “Would you like me to make a run? I can pick up some Mugwort before I leave for the day.”

“You’re leaving already?” Inwardly Draco cringed. How could he have asked such an idiotic question. It was the end of the work day. Of course Harry was going to leave. He’d finished his route. He had his own life to live, off doing whatever it was handsome, famous wizards did after work hours. Unless...

“Actually,” said Draco, clearing his throat with effort. “I was thinking, perhaps if you were free this evening, we might go.. get..” He trailed off as Harry’s face grew pained.

“I can’t, Draco. I have a date.” Potter’s mouth formed a funny little shape. “With Justin.”

Draco studied the other man’s face. Potter looked genuinely upset, though Draco couldn’t say if it was because Potter still hadn’t grown used to his queer identity, of if he was currently experiencing secondhand embarrassment on Draco’s behalf.

The thought sent an angry flush to Draco’s cheeks. If there was one thing he hated, it was being pitied.

He leaped to his feet. “It’s fine. Forget I asked.”

There was plenty to do. Draco needed to check the ledger. Prepare Severus’ orders for tomorrow. Then he would don his threadbare coat and worn shoes to head out and find dinner for Harry II and himself.

There was nothing pathetic about an honest living, even if it did get lonely at times.

“Draco..” Harry began, just as the bell jingled a second time.

“Harry, for Merlin’s sake! To think you’d make me hunt you down in a dump like this!” Justin Finch-Fletchley spread his arms, indicating the entirety of the shop. An imperious brow rose when his eyes fell on Draco.

“Malfoy? _Draco Malfoy!_ My word!”

Draco clenched his jaw as Justin came closer. He examined Draco from all angles, like he was considering putting him on a block for auction.

“Well, well,” Finch-Fletchley drawled. The false affectation of his posh accent as theatrical as it was gauche. “Look how the mighty have fallen. _Down_ is certainly out, isn’t it?”

“Hello, Justin.” Draco nodded stiffly, aware of Harry’s eyes on him. He attempted to swallow his annoyance. “It’s been a long time.”

“Too long!” Justin agreed. “Though I suppose going into hiding was the least you could do after the mess you made of things.”

Justin didn’t wait for an answer as he idly continued to chatter. Which was just as well. Draco felt his hands ball into fists.

As if sensing Draco’s malice, Potter grabbed Justin’s arm and pulled him out of harm’s range. “We should go, Justin, or we’ll be late. Draco I’ll—,” Draco’s heart leaped as Potter’s verdant green eyes caught his.

Potter stepped towards him, then seemed to think better of it and stepped back again. Just as fast, Draco’s heart plummeted into his shoes. “—I’ll see you tomorrow,” Potter finished lamely.

Together, the two men slipped out the door. Draco watched them through the smudged glass, his heart heavy. Justin’s soundless mouth seemed to be moving a mile a minute, Potter nodding at his side as they walked.

“How can you stand it?”

“Excuse me?!” Draco whirled around. His eyes darted around the room trying to pinpoint where the words were coming from. With Potter gone, he was the only person in the store. Severus’ portrait covered down for the night, as its occupant had gone visiting.

“Watching him. Watching _them_ ,” the voice hissed out of the darkness.

It was coming from the direction of Potter II. But that couldn’t be right.

As if reading Draco’s mind, several vines shot out and slithered across the floor. They wrapped themselves around Draco’s ankles, smoothing over his wrists as they pulled him closer.

Potter II’s bulbous head emerged from of the shadows. It turned towards Draco, the plant’s fangs gleaming as viridescent lips pulled back in a leer.

“It’s me, Draco. I’ve been talking to you all this time! But for the first time you’re finally _listening_ to _me_.”

Draco’s first instinct was to call for help. Maybe attempt a severing charm or, Merlin help him, summon his Patronus. A rough tug of his arm proved the Tentacula’s grip to be iron tight. Draco flinched.

“I’m not so sure what you’ve said is worth my attention.”

“Isn’t it just?” Potter II cooed. From behind the plant pot, another tentacle rose and redirected Draco’s attention to the shop’s murky window.

“Harry Potter off on another date with that insipid prat, while you’re left here to pick up the pieces.” The plant sighed, his stems sagging like bones. “Don’t kid yourself. I know you saw all those bruises on Potter’s wrists. The ones that disappeared under the collar of his shirt.”

Breath coming faster, Draco bit the inside of his cheek.

He always tried to ignore those type of things. He couldn’t afford to give into his jealousy. Potter was his coworker, and lately his only friend. It was hard enough for Draco not to idly muse about how the bruises had come to be. Fantasize about whether Potter enjoyed the process.

Draco wondered if Potter closed his eyes. How’d he’d take it. If Potter would pant harshly, or if he cried out in pleasure. Draco very much wanted to find out for himself. It _should_ be him, and not the revolving door of lovers Potter seemed to continually parade under Draco’s nose.

“That’s right, love. Bet you could do even better than that, couldn’t you?” The friendly tone in Potter’s II voice sweetened, honey smooth as a vine free of thorns smoothed tenderly over Draco’s cheek.

“You took such good care of me. I know you want to take care of him too. We ought to look out for Potter _together_.”

Draco tensed. “What makes you so sure--”

“You can’t lie to me.” The plant released Draco and he stumbled, overbalanced by his own gangly limbs. “I've watched you. I've heard all your idle thoughts. All your whispered secrets. I know what _Harry_ means to you.”

“You read my mind?”

“I just observe,” said Potter II, delicately. “I’m attuned to everyone’s thoughts and desires. I see a means to an end, and I make them align with my own.”

Draco raised a brow. “You realize how ominous you sound.”

“I know what you want.” The tentacula turned back towards the window, Draco’s eyes following of their own accord.

Beyond the glass, he could just make out Harry and Finch-Fletchley under a streetlamp at the end of the block. Justin’s hand was placed low on Potter’s waist. Potter’s stood rigid, not at all the easy slouch he had around Draco when they conversed in the shop, Potter fresh off his broom after a flower delivery.

As they watched, Justin’s other hand rose to Harry’s throat. He leaned in for a kiss, stopping short when at the last moment when Potter turned his head.

Draco could have cheered. But he was too transfixed by the sight of Potter with someone else, of this strange voyeurism his talking plant had convinced him to take part in.

The seductive air around the two men on the street changed. Justin shoved Potter back by his throat, banging the back of his head against the lampost. Potter grabbed at Justin’s shirt but the other man sidestepped, sending Harry tumbling onto the sidewalk.

Draco felt white hot anger course through his veins and he knew Potter II must have sensed it. A long stem snaked along the ground. Wrapped itself around the apothecary’s doorknob to seal them both inside.

Justin crouched over Potter, placing a knee to his windpipe for several moments that felt like an eternity. Then he removed it. Leaned down and covered Potter’s mouth with his own.

That was enough.

Draco wrenched his eyes away from the window. Tried to calm the rapid breathing that threatened to rip his lungs like paper, ugly and jagged along the edges.

“You see?” said Potter II in a silky voice that wrapped around Draco like a blanket. “We both know Harry Potter could do much better than that. He saved the entire wizarding world, after all. He doesn’t deserve to be knocked around by someone so insignificant.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Draco nodded, his breathing still unsteady.

“And I’m so, so, hungry, Draco. I’m just going to fade away into nothing if you don’t bring me something to eat soon.”

Draco nodded again. “I know. I was going to go to the shop right after he left, but then you started talking to me and--”

“The butcher shop?” The disgust in Potter II’s voice caused Draco to bristle.

“ _Yes_ , the butcher,” He repeated with indignation. He’d never much liked being interrupted. “You’re a carnivorous plant, Potty. You don’t get to be picky about what I feed you as long as it’s meat.”

“But I want _fresh_ meat,” Potter II pouted. “The butcher is probably closed. It’s so late. But I don’t mind if you think of something else for me to have. Maybe… some _one_.”

The words hung in the air, fragile as spun sugar.

“It’ll be just you and me. And Harry Potter.”

Draco heard, more than saw, the rustling of Potter II’s stalks as he twisted his head again to indicate something beyond the window. Draco didn’t bother to look this time.

“We can’t.”

“Why not? You said it yourself, I’m a carnivorous plant. No one would miss that stuck up sod. One good _Body-bind_ and you’d be doing the world a favor.”

 _Doing the world a favor._ “Me?” The squeak in Draco’s voice was only made more embarrassing by the genuine earnestness it held.

“You bring me that Finch-Fletchley and I’ll take care of _eve_ rything else.  Draco Malfoy swept a shaking palm over the hair that fell into his eyes. Fingered the collar of his wrinkled shirt as he glanced out the window one more time.

They’d learned about how Venomous Tentaculas feed during their time at Hogwarts. If Finch-Fletchley couldn’t remember the counter-curse to a simple _Totalus,_ while Draco escorted Potter into the backroom to discuss Justin’s boorish behavior, what happened next wouldn’t be any fault of his own.

Draco reached for his coat. Behind his back, with quiet precision, the slithering vine quietly unwrapped itself from around the doorknob and pushed it open.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of "Lights, Camera, Drarry" (LCDrarry), a film-, TV- and theatre-inspired Drarry fest.  
>  Creations are posted anonymously during the posting period. The creators will be revealed on [tumblr](http://lcdrarry.tumblr.com) and [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/LCDrarry2019/works) on 15 June.


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